Madness... just a blink away

I wrote this scary piece some time ago. I was traveling a lot at the time and reading quite a bit of Paul Auster. Yeah… I know this doesn’t explain all… In any case, you are welcome to take a tour down the ugly tunnels of a messed up mind…

For some reason I have trouble getting started. The words are suddenly hard to find. They wriggle and slip away, fighting to free themselves from my halfhearted grip. It is as if the natural, fluent stream of thought comes to a sharp stop when I place my fingers over the keyboard. Funny –as so many other things- that the urge to get all this out and finally see it in black over white finds such anonymous, sneaky resistance.

After reflecting upon this for a while, I decide I will type anyway. Even if it is only my doubts, my pacing and my circling that get written. For example, one of the many decisions I falter upon has to do with the intention of this exercise. What am I really doing this for? What exactly do I expect to obtain? And, as all considerations in writing, the pressing question is to whom is this addressed. Both aspects are inseparable, I believe. If this is, as I have argued with myself, just an exercise to clarify my thoughts, then there will be no reader of the final product but myself. But if this is so, why bother writing it out? Wouldn’t it be easier to take some time on my own, slow down and clear my mind and just think things over? I know what I want to write about therefore it is all in my head anyway. However, there is an undeniable element on which I will hold onto simply out of the absence of something better. Something wants to be expressed. That is a start. An image crosses my mind. This something wants to be expressed because it has to be seen for what it really is, naked and dirty and flawed. But since I am this thing that wants to be seen, I can only see it by taking it out of myself; like that old metaphor of the eye trying to see itself. Good, good. That seems to be settled.

There is something else. I guess it is more of a psychological need that must be satisfied. I have discovered –in mental preludes to this very exercise- that the effort of putting some thoughts into an intelligible string of words helps me realize how extravagant and self destructive my fantasies can be. When unchecked, my mind can lead me to believe all sorts of nonsense. Yes. That is not a problem in itself. Many good things can come from imagination. And in our postmodern-wretched world, one should free the mind rather than put a leash on it. Fuck that. I hate postmodernism! Well, that is not entirely true… But in our previous world in which good and evil, convenient and inconvenient, natural and unnatural where so obvious and universally accepted (I shudder with uneasy laughter at this), at least there was some premise. There was something resembling a ground on which to rest our weight, our terrible weight. Now our fucking posmo mindset leaves nothing below our feet. There is just a bottomless pit and we are freefalling for eternity, waving our arms and screaming as we go. Falling and falling and falling… What? Oh… Sorry!

See what I mean? I have to get back to my exercise. I shouldn’t wander off like that. It is dangerous. The daemons come again and make me think awful things and feel lots of pain and anguish. Discipline. Balsam. A balsam! That is it. This exercise is a sanctuary. It is a way to exorcise my daemons by bringing them out into the light. Ugly specters haunt me day and night and I am sometimes afraid that I will just loose my mind. There it is. This really solves part of the problem. The intention of these words is to exorcise my daemons. Exercise. Exorcise. Yes. I think that is settled. It also partially solves the other aspect of my dilemma. Even if this is directed to no one, it is nevertheless important to continue. The mere act of writing these thoughts out would be serving the purpose and the need of a reader could be omitted. However, there is a bit more to this, I am afraid. On one hand, I realize that my words should be written in such a way that they are understood by some other person. The format of the following lines should resemble a piece of writing that was actually intended for reading by other human beings. That is the only way I can establish some rules that will –hopefully- prevent me from playing tricks on myself. If I am able to read words pretending to be a John Doe and make sense of them, the chances that I am spinning around in my own dementia are lessened. I just wish I were John Doe for a while. I wonder if John Doe is a real guy after all. Am I real?

I think that is all…

Putting on robes at the sound of a bell

This was published in JigsawZen.com in 2006

Zen Master Unmon said: "The world is vast and wide. Why do you put on your robes at the sound of a bell?"

I used to have rather strong feelings against ritual stuff. Let me give you an example to clarify what I mean. Before sitting zazen at the zendo we’re supposed to bow in gassho towards the wall, turn clockwise and bow again towards the middle of the hall. Then we sit and wait for the teacher to take his place and make the bell sound three times. Once the three bells have rung, zazen officially begins. Some of the folks bow again from sitting position at the third bell; others bow three times (one for each bell).

From the first time I went to the zendo a few years ago, this bowing thing pissed me off a little. I mean, we’re in the frigging 21st Century fer cryin’ out loud! What pissed me off even more though, was that many of the folks at the zendo took their bowing darn seriously. I couldn’t help having sarcastic thoughts –and I believe I might have even written sarcastically about all this ceremonial earnestness in these very pages-.

For me, all the ritualistic stuff was just a meaningless waste of time and anyone who took it seriously was just a poor misguided fool who was trying to be really, really Buddhist. The losers… In the words of the wise Paris Hilton: “I was like, whatever”. If I had to bow, fine. I would carelessly put my hands together in front of my chest and bend forward a bit. Once I had bowed both ways as stated in the zendo rule book, I would just let myself drop to the zafu and wait there while everyone did their stuff. During the Dharma talk, while most of the people sat in half lotus or in seiza (kneeling the Japanese way) I would just sprawl myself as if I where in the park. What’s wrong with ya guys? Got a stick up yer ass or something?

On Thursdays the activity ends with the recitation of a sutra. A whole set of Japanese drums and bells come alive while we all chant in Japanese phonetics. Before the recitation of the sutra, a special bell rings and we’re supposed to prostrate three times. I screwed up almost everything the first time I took part in one of these ceremonies. I would sit down and everyone would stand up. When I finally realized I had no choice and would have to prostrate myself and put my forehead on the ground, everyone was already half way through with their stuff. I threw myself to the floor not to stand out. After a few seconds, I looked up (see, cuz my face was pressed to the floor) and I saw everyone had already stood up and was doing something else. When they all started chanting, I had the wrong page on the sutra book and couldn’t make sense of what was going on. Ah… But I really didn’t care. What was the point anyway?

Many of us look down upon ritual because we consider the religious / supernatural aspect of it as part of an overall backward mentality of superstition. We are rational, technology oriented people with a scientific based cosmo-vision. There’s no room for all this nonsense about chanting and bowing and burning incense and ‘whathaveyou’. What will the Buddha do if I don’t bow correctly, strike me with lightning? I dare ya!
There’s also a postmodern, rock ‘n’ roll thing in our psyches. You know what I mean? I was attracted towards Zen because there was no god to bow down to and the first things they make me do are prostrate and chant! Geez! See, what bugged me was the idea that I was bowing my head to someone or something. That kind of institutional faith based obedience is something that the generations before us have died to get rid of. That’s what rock ‘n’ roll is all about. It’s about saying ‘up thine’ to social convention and any kind of ideological authority.

OK. I have to grant that the bowing and chanting in Zen has nothing to do with the supernatural. There is no god in Zen and the bowing doesn’t really mean a pledge of obedience to anyone either. However, at the time that didn’t make things any better. Because if all the ritual had no religious or symbolic significance then it was nothing more than a formality, something empty of purpose and meaning. It was simply something that had been repeated throughout the centuries for only God knows what reason. And we morons kept doing it only God knows for what reason… Hey, Master Unmon said it himself: ‘The world is vast and wide, why are you so structured and limited by formality?’ That kind of sums up my frame of mind at the time.

And somehow now it’s different. You’ll see me putting quite a bit of attention in my bowing. Hands pressed together with no space between the fingers, held at one fist distance from the nose with the bent arms parallel to the floor. I’ll take care of making right angle turns during kinhin when I reach the corner of the hall and I’ll respond with a polite gassho when I’m ‘gasshoed’ at. I still screw up big time during the chanting and prostrations, but that’s not intentional (I have to deal with my handicapped condition…). What has changed? How come I am now one of those earnest bowers I once scorned at? How have I been convinced that this ritual stuff is somehow worth it?

I was brainwashed. That’s it. My vulnerable self esteem and my need for peer acceptance have finally made my shield of rationality cave in. I’ve been manipulated and soon will be giving up my worldly possessions to the cult in exchange for eternal salvation (it’s a great deal).

Ah… I wish the answer was that easy. I’ll try to put this into words but I can’t promise I’ll make any sense.

On one hand, what I can tell you is that at some point along the way, I grew tired of being a smartass all the time. Trying to be above everyone else in every situation is utterly exhausting (and a waste of time I have discovered after being an idiot for far too long). It drains the very life juice out of you. It also means being exposed all the time. You see, if no shelter is good enough for you, then the rain in the wind will eventually catch you in the open with your balls dangling in the air. To take refuge in the Dharma and the Sangha means bowing your head. Not in submission but in humility. Not to be accepted by others but precisely the opposite; so you can accept the way you are and the way things are. The bottom line is that if I am honest with myself, most of the things I rant about I don’t know shit about. I might as well shut up and do as I’m told.

But there’s another reason. One day, our teacher Ricardo was doing his usual Dharma talk and was explaining ‘Ichigyo Zanmai’. To make things simple, one could say that ‘Ichigyo Zanmai’ means ‘paying attention to what one is doing’. It means being attentive. When you are eating, your attention is in the eating. When you are walking, the attention is in the walking. When you listen to someone talk, you listen instead of thinking what to say next. Ricardo told us a bit about his years at Eheiji to illustrate the concept. There the activities are very limited and very repetitive. If you’re not prepared, you can go out of your mind with boredom. And yet all these very simple activities are done very ceremoniously, placing a lot of attention in every little movement. Waking up and tending to your mat, putting on your robes with all their folds and layers, sitting zazen, chanting, prostrating and bowing. All is done with a lot of care and attention. Not because there’s some ritual significance to these actions but simply because one is involved, one is attentive, one is concentrated. The repetition of these simple acts becomes somehow fascinating because when one pays attention, each bow and each zazen is different and unique. And that is the very practice of Zen. Being attentive; once and again, and again and again.

Of course, as Ricardo pointed out, one can’t go around bowing at work and prostrating before one’s food at a restaurant. Good thing he pointed this out; I was about to chant the Zandokai before the Commercial Committee… But the point is that there is a place and time for things. You can’t go about the street looking like a robot or like Frankenstein. Of course you can be attentive during your daily activities but, at the same time, there is a place for practice and that is the zendo. And when one is in the zendo one practices ‘Ichigyo Zanmai’ with the activities that are proper of the zendo. One must be attentive while bowing in gassho with the palms pressed together at a fist’s distance from the nose. One must be attentive while prostrating at the sound of the bell and while chanting the sutra. One must be attentive of the posture and the breathing during zazen.

It’s funny. When newcomers visit the zendo for the first time and see all us dorks bowing and prostrating I can’t help a little silent laugh…